Page 67 of Roughing It

God, the way I hope she says what I need to hear.

“It’s not an act. I want you. I have since you yelled at me over luggage and threatened to leave me in Trail Creek.” Stretching on her tiptoes, she nips my earlobe and mutters, “Asshole.”

Then her towel falls to the floor in a crumpled heap, and my brain, heart, and lungs all stop working. My Spitfire stands before me in all her glory, a masterclass in curves and indulgence.

“No more waiting, Bear.”

My gaze burns down her body, gathering every intimate detail I can. The line of her slender neck and elegant collarbone. The heavy sway of her ripe tits. The flow of her trim waist to the swell of her hips. The neat strip of hair between her quivering thighs.

Fuck.

The way I need her, want her, is written on my face and rapidly straining the cotton of my sleep pants. Today was a tipping point. I was already two steps over the fence when Blakely fell into the lake, but hearing her say this is real eradicates any remaining barriers between us.

And now I’m going to show her. The invisible line I tried to draw is long crossed, and I don’t plan on looking back.

I set the tea on the small side table and drop to my knees before her—putting us face to pussy. “You’re gorgeous,” I rasp as I give in to the itch to touch her like she’s mine. My hands glide up the back of her legs, curling to grip her inner thighs. Then I brush my mouth against the skin below her navel. Her breath hitches, and her thighs clench when I pepper kisses lower. There’s power in knowing she’s as affected as I am.

Jerking my head at the mug, I say, “Tea first.” She goes to argue, but I silence her by blowing a stream of air close enough to ruffle her trimmed curls. “Sip it while I sip you.”

Her gasp sounds over the crackle of the fire. “W-what do you mean?”

Grinning like the devil from my sinner’s throne, I growl, “I mean, I’m gonna lick your juicy cunt until you’re so warm inside and out you’ll forget every second of being in that fucking lake.”

Blakely’s eyes go wide, pupils blown. She says, “Thank you.” Then groans and mutters, “Thank you? Cool. Totally cool, Blakely.”

I hide my smile in that sexy crease between her hip andthigh. “Now drink.” The command is clear, but so is the plea. I need to make her come on my tongue. As sure as I need to eat, breathe, and sh?—

The hushed sound of her slurping tells me she’s following my order. To reward her, I ghost my hands over her hips and my lips over her thighs.

“When I touch you, how wet will you be for me?”

She doesn’t answer. That won’t work. I rise so we’re eye to eye. Blakely stares at me, surprise written on her pretty face, the mug still at her mouth.

“I want answers when I ask a question, and if youdon’tanswer, you might find yourself on the wrong end of a spanking.” She shifts, rubbing her thighs together.

Leaning in, I whisper what I hope she knows but have to confirm. “If you don’t like this kind of play, or aren’t up to it, tell me now, and it stops. I’ll spread you out and eat you like I promised, but without the dirty talk, the pussy slaps, or bringing you to the edge until you’re ready to explode.”

“No.” Her throat bobs. “I like to play.” Then she grins and takes a sip of her tea. “For someone I’ve spent days begging to speak, you suddenly have a lot to say.”

My teeth graze against her jaw. “I save my words for what’s important.” I straighten to my full height so I tower over her, slip my fingers into her hair and tug, drawing a whimper from her. “If you want to stop, all you have to do is say it. No matter where we are or what we’re doing. Understand?”

“Yes.”

“Anything I should know?”

“Biting, spanking, edging are all good.” Her eyes dip to my lips, and she licks her own, “And your hand on my neck?—”

I slide my hand to her pulse point and give it a gentle squeeze. “Like this?”

Her throat constricts as she swallows. “Yes.”

My thumb skims the column of her neck, lingering on her hammering pulse. I give it another squeeze, loving how her eyes flutter. “You wear that necklace so well, baby. But it’ll have to wait for another time.” With that, I drop to my knees and bring my thumb to her clit, skating around it, teasing her.

Her sharp gasp has me cutting my eyes upward. The cup is at her lips. My tongue darts out, licking along her pussy but not breaching her. Not yet. It’s hardly a scrap, but even the barest hint of her salty-sweet musk blows out my sense of taste, ruining all future flavors.

“Need more, baby. Spread your legs wider for me; let me see you.” I split her lips with my pointer and middle fingers, burying my nose in the soft spot above her clit and inhaling. How does she smell like goddamn flowers everywhere?

Blakely’s words wobble, and she bucks forward. “You’ve seen me.”

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